Power & Control
by annal0uise
Summary: When Katniss volunteers for her sister in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, she knows she will stop at nothing to win for her sister and come home. But when yet another twist is thrown at her, the Girl on Fire collides with the Brutal and Bloody Boy from District Two. Will she follow her head to get home, or will her heart get in the way? *Loosely follows plot of the book.*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is my first fanfiction that I've ever published on this site and I'm really excited! I've slowly fallen in love with the KatnissxCato pairing, and there are only so many fics on here concerning them, so I thought I'd give it a shot! Reviews/criticism is surely welcome! Hope you enjoy it (:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Hunger Games, merely the plot of this story. **

* * *

"_I can do nothing but wait. One day it will be my turn to call out and volunteer. All my life I've been taught to be so grateful for the opportunity, the chance to make my district proud. And I will be._

_But is it really what I want?"_

* * *

I stare at the small radio like device in my hand, vaguely remembering the strange voice coming from it so long ago. Is this his year? Is he going to be one of those awful Careers in the Games? I bit my lip in slight apprehension. I hope not. I've come to expect his voice every night, softly confiding in the twin of this tiny piece of technology. I don't know if he can hear me. He never asked. But I hear him. I hear the waver in his voice on the nights where his trainers have punished him for not giving enough effort. I hear the smashing of objects from across the room when his rage overcomes him. I hear the rare sobs that somehow break his barrier whenever he thinks he's had enough, never knowing that it'll get worse enough sometime again.

Strangely, I couldn't bear to accept that this boy's life could be taken away, taken away from me, in the next couple of weeks. Deep down, I know the answer. It's been six years already. If he really was chosen from the beginning, this is it.

His reaping is tomorrow.

* * *

The oxygen catches in the depth of my throat. Prim? How? Tears threaten to surface, but I blink them away in time to rush forward, fighting Peacekeepers as I struggle to find my voice.

"Prim! Prim!" I manage to screech, breaking the grip of another white uniform. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" The words that escape my mouth astound even me, but it is no matter compared to what I will be saving my dear Prim from.

I grasp her tightly in my arms, telling her she has to go find mom before she starts crying too much. Thankfully, Gale has pushed through the crowd and scoops the small blonde into his arms. The gratitude I express to him through my light squeeze of his fingers, even the flabbergasted expression of the exuberant Effie Trinket, are not enough to block the sobs of my sister that echo in my head long after I've walked up to the stage of the Justice Building.

My mind is far from where I stand, and I hardly register that Peeta Mellark, the damned boy with the bread, has been chosen to represent District Twelve this year. It registers enough to make me feel the pity of a thousand deaths, though. Before I can become on the verge of tears again, we're both thrust into the building to organize our good byes and then to whisk us away to the Capitol.

First is my mother and Prim, who is still full of tears. She shakes me, begging me to try and win, and the promise that I will is almost automatic. I could never refuse her requests. I make my mother promise to take care of her, bringing her to the verge of tears as well. Soon enough, we're all about to cry but a Peacekeeper takes them away from me. My hands sweep furiously over my cheeks.

Next is Mr. Mellark, who is a great surprise. We sit in silence, almost basking in each other's company even though I've only spoken to the man on business. As he leaves he says, "I'll take care of them, Katniss. I will." Another unwanted tear escapes me.

Then Madge enters, her golden hair released from the pink ribbon that held it back earlier. She sweeps some back behind her shoulder and fiddles with a small figure previously hidden under her hair on the white dress she adorns. Whatever it is becomes unfastened and she holds it out to me.

"Here," she says. In the palm of her hand is a small pin, completely gold, of an encircled Mockingjay bird. It's gorgeous. "They say you're allowed a token of your district in the arena, to remind you of home. I want you to have it." My mouth hangs slightly agape, and instantly I wish she could give it to my family instead. It would feed them for months. Instead of waiting for my response, she takes my own hand and opens it, dropping the lovely pin into the cup of my fingers. Then she walks out.

Finally, Gale emerges from behind the door, instantly enclosing me in a hug. I am crying again, not caring how badly I stain his only nice shirt.

"You can do this, you know." He whispers. "You're stronger than they are." I don't say anything back. I just cling onto him for dear life. "Show them how strong you are. Come home." In the next second, a Peacekeeper is back, and I have a difficult time believe that our time is already spent. It's doesn't matter though.

"I will, Gale, I promise." I try to say, but it comes out in more of a mangled whisper. "Please, just take care of them!" By the last few words, I'm yelling so he can hear my pleas through the closed door.

Effie Trinket wastes no time in collecting me from the small office and leading me to the car at the back of the building. I've never been a car before. It's a strange contraption and much too cramped for the two of us tributes and our escort. The ride is surprising short from the Justice Building to the train station, probably because I've never been able to see it from the town square. Already there are hundreds of people holding cameras and snapping photos that will probably be broadcasted across Panem in a matter of seconds. I eagerly hurry after Effie onto the train, and I'm almost glad I did so.

In the first compartment is an assortment of food that I've only been told about. Hundreds of different dishes of snacks to deserts are scattered across carts throughout the whole car. Before I can ask if this is all for us, Effie pushes us forward to show us our own quarters, even though it's only a night. As soon as the pink haired lady leaves, I untuck the small radio from the waistband of my underwear, cradling it in my hands and listen closely. The familiar hum of static meets my ears, and I'm almost disappointed. He usually speaks several hours after dark though, so I don't fret too much. I lay on the heavenly mattress for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, my head not really settling on any thoughts. A few knocks bring me back to the surface.

Peeta slowly enters, informing me that they are going to watch the other district reapings and thought that it'd be good for me to join them. I open my mouth to refuse, but then I remember the boy from the radio. It's worth a shot.

I follow Peeta out my compartment and settle into the single chair, not wanting to be in close contact with the other three, one being Haymitch Abernathy who I am seeing clearly for the first time. Effie has already started District One's. After hearing the boy's voice, I'm hardly paying attention. The only thing I take away from the recap is wondering what kind of name Glimmer is. A bit much, isn't it?

Once District Two's has started, I'm a little more focused. If he is one of the volunteers, a Career, then he's either from Two or Four, and I due to the things I've heard, I have a hunch he's not from the latter. But first is the girl, a small thing. She isn't a volunteer either, which is odd, but nobody volunteers to take her place. I'm afraid to see what makes this girl so lethal. Then, before the escort can even get the last name of the selected tribute out, a voice calls out, volunteering to take his place. I was too focused on the look of the boy, no, a man, to determine if the voice could have belonged to the one I've been listening to for the past six years.

He's massive. Not in a meaty sense, but fit. His biceps are easily the size of my head, accompanied by tall, strong legs that give him so much height, and you can tell by the way he strolls up to the stage that he's almost unstoppable. I can only wonder what weapons he would use, how many ways he'd know how to kill me in the arena. My eyes finally focus on the face that is now taking up most of the screen. Bright blue eyes bore holes into the cameras, going wonderfully with the shock of blonde hair he has. A smirk rests nicely on his lips. I frown slightly, knowing that all the sponsors must already be targeting him. He's looks like he's already won.

"Now, what's your name?" The ridiculous looking escort inquires. He flashes a smile, making a blush peak slightly into her cheeks and speaks.

"Cato Marcellus." This time I hear the voice loud and clear. I almost fall out of the chair trying to rush to my room, ignoring the questioning calls from the others. I make sure the door is again closed before I slip the radio from beneath the bed, holding the little thing to my ear. I silently beg for him to speak, to give me a confirmation.

But I don't need one. Years I've listened to that voice, and I would recognize it anywhere in a heartbeat. Part of me just doesn't want it to be true, I suppose.

I don't want the speaker to be the brutal and bloody looking boy from District Two.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I already had two parts written out before I decided to publish, so I thought I'd post them at the same time.**

* * *

The sight of my stylists makes me crinkle my nose in slight disgust. Three people, more like aliens than actual humans, scrambled around before me organizing thousands of tools and products in the small grey room. One of the women has aqua blue hair and golden tattoos, the exact same hue as my Mockingjay pin, painted above her eyebrows. The other is stranger, her skins a shade of pea green with crazy brown curls sticking out in all directions. The only male there seems almost normal aside from a ridiculous retro hair do and bright pink finger nails just as obnoxious in length. They quickly introduce themselves as Venia, Octavia, and Flavius, and then they begin to "work their magic" as they said.

For what seems like hours they remove all hair from my body, even in the most unfortunate places, shape my nails, and sooth my hair and skin to almost perfect. When they finally leave me to my stylist, I drop my robe and stare at myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me is unfamiliar except for the empty grey eyes observing the reflection. I turn my attention away when the door opens behind me, revealing a young, dark skinned man about my height, and the only tip off that he's a Capitol citizen is the gold eyeliner framing his lovely green eyes.

"You must be Cinna," I say, wondering how else I could have made a non-awkward introduction.

"I am," he responds after a pause. "And you must be the brave Katniss Everdeen." I snort slightly. Brave? Hardly.

I then remember that I'm naked for the first time in front of a man, in front of anyone really, so I automatically try to cover myself, but it's a little too late for modesty. Despite my newly acquired stance, he observes me in a way that is unfamiliar. It's not like being a prey under someone's gaze or being looked upon with negative feels. It's like I'm a doll that needs to be dressed to impress.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," says Cinna after circling around me once. I stay silent. He brings my arms down to my sides and completes another two circles. I wonder if Peeta is having the same strange experience that I am.

"So as you know, you're meant to be dressed up as coalminers, but I don't want to do that." I pay slightly more attention. "We're going to focus more on the use of that coal and put a little more fire into that spirit of yours. The tribute parade will be all you and your partner, of course." He then gives me a light kiss on the cheek, a small smile, and leaves the room. I merely shrug to myself and dress in what Effie must have sent my prep team to wear for the remainder of the afternoon.

I might as well capitalize on the opportunity to wear somewhat normal clothing, I think. I am definitely going to be forced into the skimpiest outfit I've ever had the displeasure of wearing.

My assumptions were thankfully off base. An hour before the parade, Venia, I think, had thrust me into an entirely black one piece suit that clings to even inch of my skin from my toes to my neck. Later I discovered Peeta was dressed the same. The stylists took more time on my hair, braiding it into an elaborate do to make up for the lack of use with Peeta's.

Then Cinna approached us with a single match, and I could feel the heat erupting from the open flame immediately.

My first instinct is the take several steps back, but I know Cinna would never endanger the two of us. He simply smiles and says that it will all make sense in a moment. I take the remainder of the time scoping out the other tributes. Unfortunately, they seemed to have put three districts to a room, so I have no view of District Two. Instead my eyes land on those of Eleven's, they boy surprising me. Because I didn't watch the reapings, I wasn't expecting such a built tribute. So far he is the only non-Career that looks like they stand a chance in these Games. All the others are young and look breakable in a matter of seconds, like his partner. She's so small, most likely the same age as Prim, but she has this weightless aura. She's poised and stands tall despite her tiny frame. It brings a slight smile to my face, but it is instantly swept away by the truth of the Games.

She'll most likely be dead in two weeks.

Thankfully Cinna pulls the two of us towards our chariot before I can spend more time on the idea than I'd like. Once we're standing side by side, the stylist brings the flame to our suits and I flinch. But I feel nothing. No heat or burns, nothing. I'm astounded.

"It's not real fire," he explains. "Plus your suits are meant to hold the flame but not let you feel the heat. Wonderful, isn't it?" I can't contain my smile.

"It's brilliant, Cinna." I praise, and Peeta nods in agreement. The chariot then lurches us forward and I'm too befuddled to give a quiet good bye. We're pulled through a tunnel, riding behind District Eleven, and at one point it gets so dark that I lose sight of them in front of me. I feel Peeta slowly brushing my hand, and I pull it away as quickly as possible. What is he doing? Finally I spot the light at the end and we clear the tunnel quickly.

The noise is overwhelming. Laughs, cheers, and screams all echo throughout my head and I have a hard time keeping myself steady. Look at these creatures, finding excitement and entertainment in the bloodbath of children. It makes me sick to my stomach but luckily I seem to have nothing to throw up. Once I find my focus again, I can hear them all chanting something, which first sounds like Cato. But I listen closer and find that it's not the name they're cheering at all.

It's mine.

I can't imagine that I am the source of their calls, their animal like actions. What could I possibly be doing? Then I remember by suit, my beautiful costume that the wondrous Cinna created. I am the girl on fire. Of course they're going to love that. It'll probably be my nickname by tomorrow. I almost scowl, but I feel Peeta reach for my hand again and this time I harshly shrink away and cast him a look.

"Come on," he whispers. "It'll make them go wild." I roll my eyes and oblige. And he's right. I couldn't imagine that the noise could get any louder, but when Peeta thrusts our enclosed hands into the air, the Capitol citizens eat it up. There are flowers coming from every direction, and I blow kisses back. Every hand seems to fly out to catch them. Everyone seems to want my kisses.

Once all of the chariots reach the City Circle our flames go out by themselves and we drop our hand. I try to slip mine out of his as nicely as possible, but he doesn't let me. Giving up the fight, I search the sea of tributes for the blonde haired boy, and it's not hard to find him. District Two's stylist has dressed them in these golden pieces of armor, the same color as his hair, and they look stunning. They glow with strength and confidence. I can only imagine how prepossessing we must have looked in order to steal their attention. I hardly hear President Snow's welcome for I am still staring at this boy, trying to figure out how to match the secrets and feelings I have heard to this terrifying being.

We're thrust forward again, the horses pulling us all to the gathering room behind the circle. When we file in last we're met by Cinna, Peeta's stylist, Portia, Effie, and the every lovely Haymitch. They're all beaming.

"Oh, that was simply wonderful!" Effie gushes as we step down from our chariot.

"Yes, quite stunning," Portia agrees, as if she didn't help to come up with the idea. Cinna simply gives us one of his warm smiles. But Haymitch seems distracted, gazing past myself. I follow his line of sight.

Cato is looking, glaring more like, at the two of us, and I'm surprised that I didn't feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. His eyes flick to me, and my breath seems to be caught in my throat. Not by his beauty, no, for I have already spent time observing that. It's the coldness in his eyes, the lack of brightness in them that I caught a glimpse of during his reaping. They're harsh, and they're just so cold that I actual feel a shiver creeping up my spine.

Haymitch brings me back to reality when he grabs my arm and yanks me to follow the others to the elevator. I'm forced to break our gaze, but this time I feel his still focused on me. It's hard to fight the urge to not look back. Peeta and the other three have already gotten into one of the elevators, so it's just Haymitch and myself who endure the ride to the top with such horrid music. We both keep silent. I can't think of anything I'd want to say anyways. But before I can step out of the elevator into our penthouse, Haymitch blocks my way and turns to face me. He holds my gaze for a moment.

"Be careful what you're getting yourself into, sweetheart."


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of knocking interrupts my sleep or my attempt at it for god knows how many times throughout the night. Without waiting for my response, Effie bursts into the room chattering about how late I'm going to be, blah blah blah. I tune her out and shut myself in the bathroom.

"You have ten minutes, Katniss!" I hear Effie scream. To her pleasure, I am in and out of the shower within a few minutes, the constant stream of hot water reminding me too much of how I'm not at home.

I am here in the Capitol slowly preparing for my unavoidable death as well as witnessing those of the unlucky tributes before me.

I sweep my hair back into its usual braid, not caring about the drops of water that collect on my back. I emerge from the bathroom in just a towel since I seemed to have forgotten to bring clothes with me in my rush to avoid Effie. Instead of searching through the overstuffed closet I notice the outfit Cinna or Effie or one of the others had left on the bed for me. It looks normal enough. A simple fitted training shirt and pants in a nice dark grey and red. I like it very much, I realize. If I'm going to be training for my death, then I might as well find some form of comfort in it.

I leave my room and quickly make my way to the table and grab a small piece of toast and down two glasses of water. I notice that the rest of the floor is empty. Shit. I rush to the elevator automatically pressing the button to the ground floor. The training center has to be down there somewhere, right? I tap my foot impatiently as the machine descends to the bottom but not before it comes to a stop on another floor. Two, to be exact. I internally curse again. When the doors slide open, both Cato and his partner are ready to enter, as well as their mentors, but the girls stops short and scowls in disgust.

"I'll wait." She states. Both mentors smirk and neither argue. Not the same could be said for the blonde though.

"Whatever suits you," he says coolly, stepping into the elevator.

When I was younger, I once volunteered to sing in front of the entire school. Gale would tease me for it all the time and looking back, it was the most embarrassing and awkward situation that I ever created for myself.

Well, standing next to a boy, who is a good head and a half taller than you, ready to kill, and who you have also heard the deepest secrets and feelings of completely and totally knocks that out the park.

He doesn't look at me, nor I at him. My foot is still tapping even though we only have two floors to go. My fingers are twiddling nervously. I desperately want to say something, anything, which would give some kind of proof that I know him. That I know how much he hurts. I have this overwhelming desire to help him, and it troubles me.

"Stop tapping," he snaps, bringing back to reality. I glance sideways at him and automatically do. Gosh, he is intimidating. Any sort of confidence I had somehow found to confront him has vanished. But I wonder why he hasn't made a snide comment towards me or my district.

We finally reach the bottom floor and I bolt out of the elevator, aimlessly walking forward. It isn't until I'm at the doors of the building that I have no idea where I'm going. I hear a snicker from behind me, and I turn to see Cato already walking off to the left towards a hallway tucked away in the corner. My cheeks flush but I push aside my embarrassment and stalk after him. It turns out he knows what he's doing.

I automatically find Peeta in the crowd around the head trainer, Atala, I heard. I stand silently and as still as possible while she talks about how it is just as important to know how to bare the elements as is it to know how to defend yourself against another tribute, but I already knew that. Judging by the fully focused faces of some of the other tributes though, it doesn't seem like they did. Already I'm feeling pity towards some of these kids.

"What the hell were you doing this morning?" Peeta hisses at me once Atala is done speaking.

"I just slept late, okay?" I scowled. I turn to go towards one of the survival stations but Peeta grabs my arm. Jeez, what is with this boy and touching me?

"Haymitch wants us to stick together," he whispers, nicer this time. I furrow my brows in resentment. Sensing my slight confusion, he quickly explains how he wants us to appear as a team, like during the parade, and to make sure we keep each other in check with not showing off our talents. Silly Haymitch, I wouldn't give my strengths away so easily.

Peeta and I decided to do the four required exercises first, taking our time scoping out the other tributes. The only ones that stick out as dangerous are obviously the Careers and the boy from Eleven that I saw last night. All the others are anywhere from the age of twelve to sixteen, but none of them could have trained for this. Nobody could be truly prepared for these Games.

At some point while waiting in line, my eyes flit upwards and I catch the small girl from District Eleven floating through the netting on the ceiling. I have to suppress a giggle. Maybe I underestimated this girl. She's gone unnoticed by what seems like everyone but me and her district partner. I hope she's able to get away with hiding long enough in the Games. I also hope that it wouldn't come down to us two, but I know that's very unlikely. From the stats board, I learn her name is Rue.

Once I've finished the exercises, I abandon Peeta for a bit and head towards the trap station, in need of something to remind me of home. I barely listen to the instructor, but when I make my snares it's evident that I know what I'm doing. His impressed smile makes me feel slightly better about my chances of survival in the arena.

From this station I have a perfect view of the weapons area, and my heart instantly aches to be holding the lovely silver bow the girl from District One is currently holding. I watch her take a few shots and deduce that she honestly has no idea what she's doing. The girl from Two, on the other hand, I have never seen anything like. She stands tall in front of several target dummies with knives decorating her training outfit. When a target lights up, she throws until every dummy has been lit, and she goes through this at least twice. She never misses. Next, I focus my attention on the boy from One, tall and strong but lean. He seems to like the spear in his hand and is obviously effective with it. Every dummy he throws at he hits as well, from at least twenty yards away.

Finally, my eyes fall on Cato, and I almost have to look away for my own sanity. A broad sword is held in his hand and you can see the already mutilated dummy parts scattered around him. His swings are swift and accurate, and in less than three hits, the dummy is pieces. I can feel my mouth slightly hanging, and he seems to sense my amazement for his eyes meet mine. A smirk automatically fills his face. Before either of us can break our gaze, we're called to lunch. I quickly find Peeta and make my way over to him, avoiding eye contact with everyone until I'm by his side. He must sense my uneasiness because he's questioning me as soon as we sit down at a table.

"Is everything alright?" His eyes are strangely filled with worry and I'm almost offended. He's looking at me like I'm weak.

"Yeah, everything's fine as far as fine goes in a situation like this." I answer, knowing very well that I'm lying. For the life of me, I couldn't shake Cato's icy glare from the night before or his condescending smirk that he always seems to have. It almost disgusts me.

Lunch goes slowly, much to my pleasure, and I try to answer Peeta's further questions as shortly as possible. Finally he gives up after getting that I do not want to talk. I pick at my food the whole time knowing that it's not smart since I need my energy, but I am beyond caring at the moment. I have a strange desire for my radio, but I quickly push the urge away. It's not the same anymore.

When they call us back the training center, I tell Peeta and one of the trainers that I'm going to use the bathroom first. Not entirely sure where I'm going, I wander a little before I come across a hallway that directs towards the restrooms. It's eerie, and I soon discover why. Before I can make it to the door of the bathroom, Cato emerges from the other and looks slightly startled at the sight of me but any hint at that instantly vanishes. We walk quickly past each other, but I stop short. I need tell him.

"Two," I say without turning around. I hear him continue to walk. "Cato!" I exclaim, turning to meet his halted step. He turns around as well and cocks his head slightly to the side.

"What do you want, Twelve?" He asks, still seeming slightly surprised that I used his given name. Before I can answer, he walks a few steps closer and now he's within arm's reach. My mind instantly goes into defensive mode near this boy, but I ignore it.

"I, uh…" I began, mentally smacking myself. Oh dear, how do I go about this? I'm surprised he's even still listening to me, probably because of his amusement. "I wanted to know if you were okay." I receive another mental smack. His snort makes my cheeks flush an instant fire.

"And why the hell do you think I would answer you, let alone care that the little Girl on Fire wants to know how I am?" He retorts. I can feel anger rising in me now and my bluntness gets the better of me.

"Because of those things you've spoken to that damn radio the past six years." I blurt. Before I can further explain myself, he has me held up against the wall; one had grasping the two of my own and the other around my neck. I feel the lack of air immediately and start to panic. His eyes are flaming and I am almost certain that he'll kill me even before we're in the arena.

"What the hell are you playing at?" He yells.

"The scar," I manage to gasp. "The one from your left shoulder to the opposite hip." He immediately drops me and I swallow as much air as possible. Once I've finally focused, I notice his eyes are wide and full of fear. I hear someone approaching the hallway and he must have too.

"The roof at one tonight." He hisses. "You're in deep shit and having a lot of explaining to do, Twelve."


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the afternoon is a slight blur. I remember taking some time at the weapons station finding that I was useless when it came to anything heavy. Knives weren't too bad, but it was nothing compared to the girl from Two. I had to convince myself to simply wait until my private session. Then I'd prove myself with one of those pretty bows. I'd gone through a few other survival stations and simpler training exercises, but I mostly watched everything around me. The other tributes, the Gamemakers, the cameras they had in every corner and wall in the room. I could feel myself over analyzing every aspect, but I tried not to think much of it. Instead my mind drifted to my earlier encounter.

Am I really supposed to meet him? How do I know he's not just going to throw me off the side of the building? My curiosity had been eating at me though. Maybe he'd let me explain myself, and hopefully we'd be on better terms. I snorted. Why does it matter if we're on good terms or not? One of us will be dead, if not both, in the next few weeks.

When they'd finally let us go for dinner, I was out of the room before anyone else, catching Cato's observing eye for a second. I had rushed towards the elevators making sure I didn't have to ride with anyone. Now I'm lying on my bed in the same sprawled position that I was in when I arrived two hours ago. I missed dinner, no doubt. A knock from Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, and even Cinna confirmed that. But I wasn't anywhere near hungry. Instead I fiddle with the little radio for a bit. I'm surprised he doesn't just try and communicate through here to see if I was telling the truth. But would I have answered if I did?

My mind continues to hum, drifting from Prim to Gale to my mother and to everyone I can think of from Twelve. I wish to feel the comfort of home, and as I'm imagining myself in the woods, I slowly drift to sleep.

* * *

I wake up shrieking, frantically grasping around for my sister.

"No!" I screamed. "I volunteered! You can't take her away!" Sobs are racking my body, making it harder for me to catch my breath. After a few minutes I manage to slow my gasps and hold back the tears. It's just a dream, I tell myself. It was only a dream.

My eyes flick to the clock sitting next to my bed and it reads 1:42 in the morning. I groan, realizing that I missed meeting Cato on the roof. Half of me is filled with regret, the other half is relieved. Regardless, I decide that I'm going up to the roof anyway in hopes that the air will help clear my head. I unconsciously tuck the radio into the pocket of my pants and leave the flat. Once I reach the top of the building, I discover that somebody else has the same idea.

At first I think it's Peeta because of the shock of blonde hair belonging to the person sitting on the edge, peering out over the Capitol, but then that assumption is crushed when I realize that Peeta is nowhere near as built as this person. So that leaves one other.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said without turning. I stay rooted where I am.

"I didn't think you'd still be here." I replied. "I also thought that tonight wouldn't be my night to be thrown off the side of a building."

"Even if I wanted to, it wouldn't work. There's a force field around the whole roof to keep people from jumping." He's looking at me now. "Besides, there are many other ways I could kill you without having to use anything but my hands." I ignore his last comment.

"Jump? Why would they be worried about that?" I press.

"Why wouldn't you jump?" He says softly, enough to surprise me. His voice is full of vulnerability, and it makes me uneasy. Why does everything about him have to make me uneasy?

Somehow my legs take me over to the ledge while he watches me intently, and I decide to sit a few feet away. I slip the radio out of my pocket and lay it on the stone in front of him.

"It looks just like yours, doesn't it?" I ask hopefully.

"Unfortunately." I open my mouth to respond, but immediately shut it for lack of words. I wonder where he was expecting this encounter to go.

"I won't tell, if that's what this was going to be about." A cold laugh escapes him sending shivers down my spine.

"Even if I was, who'd believe you?" He snaps. " 'Oh hey Bread Boy, did you know that the guy from Two is really a pansy?' Please." I frown.

"Because that was definitely my plan from the start." Feeling annoyed now, I grab the radio and get up to leave but his arm has grabbed mine again. I wince. The pressure on the bruises from early make them hurt like hell. He must notice my pain because he automatically lets go and mutters an apology. What?

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" I almost shout. "First you attack me today, leaving some nice bruises on my neck and arms mind you, and now you're apologizing for hurting me again? You've looked like you've wanted to kill me ever since the Tribute Parade. What exactly am I supposed to make of this?

"Look, I never wanted any of this to happen. You're the one who decided to approach me about!" He's shouting now. "How do you think it feels to know that some outer district girl is aware of all your weaknesses, one that you'll be in a fight to the death with? I'm not supposed to be weak! I've been training for this all my life and I'm not going to let you ruin it."

"Has it every occurred to you that maybe I wanted to help?" I snap back. I can't believe I just said that.

"Why would you want to help? I'm not going to fall for some friendly shit only to have my back stabbed." He scowls at me. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, of course not!" I take a breath. What the hell am I doing? Why do I feel such a need to protect him? "I just wanted you to know that you're not alone." I say weakly. His face softens slightly but he still looks enraged.

"You'd never understand," Cato replies. "Not even if you were from District Two." He pauses for a second, like he's debating on whether to continue, but he does. "They would have killed my entire family if I didn't volunteer."

I'm slightly surprised. I feel shameful that I didn't think he'd have family, let alone care so much about them. But I do understand. I understand what's it's like to have to make sacrifices for your family.

"Of course I understand. Why do you think I'm here?" I ask, slightly offended. He seems confused. "I volunteered for my sister at our reaping. I know she'd be dead if I hadn't." Now it's his turn to be astonished.

"Oh," is all he says. I let out a hollow laugh.

"Did you not watch the recaps of all the reapings?" He shakes his head. "Ah."

"It didn't seem important," he says defensively. We're both silent again.

"Well," I begin. "It looks like we're stuck in the same boat." I'm unsure of what to do now. I really just want to leave. "You know, I'm just going to pretend this conversation never happened. We're both going to on with our training and the Games and if one of us wins, great. If not, then that's okay too. It was for our families. Goodbye, Cato." I turn and starting walking back towards the elevator, slightly saddened that he hasn't said anything back. I guess he agrees.

"I don't want to forget the conversation." He calls, and I sigh, halting my step. "I'm not asking to be allies, or friends, or even acquaintances of each other. I just want to have an understanding. I somehow like knowing that there's someone who does." I chew my lip and turn around.

"Fair enough," I respond. "Is that all?" This was getting really too weird for me. Thankfully, he nods and I quickly turn and enter the elevator. Pressing the button labeled twelve, I catch his small, melancholy smile at me before the doors come to a close.

* * *

**A/N: Wow! I did not expect to get such positive feedback on my idea. Thank you all so much ^.^**

**Anyways, I don't know how I feel about this scene. Part of me thinks that it didn't meet your expectations, but the Games are where it's all supposed to happen, so just wait!**


	5. Chapter 5

I managed to survive the next three days of training. It was always the same routine. Wake up, eat a small breakfast, lie in bed until training, go train, lunch, train some more. Sometimes I'd eat dinner and other times I'd go straight to bed, but I'd always wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares. And I'd always go up to the roof to think. After doing that for three days in a row, I thought all my frustration and anger would have been spent.

But my private training session proved otherwise.

Part of me thinks that Effie would actually have my head. We were all sitting on the circular couch, waiting for the scores, and the damn woman would not stop going on about the "consequences of my actions".

"What were you even thinking?" She screeches. "Do you even understand what will happen now? You've lost all your possible sponsors and what if the Gamemakers decide to take it out on us?"

"How?" Haymitch interjects. "I think for these two, they already have." That shuts Effie up.

Caesar Flickerman finally appears on the screen and goes through the scores. The 9-10s that the Careers receive are expected, and the others range anywhere from a 5 to 8. I notice that Rue managed a 7. I smile to myself. Peeta pulls out an 8 and we're all congratulating him.

"We can work with that!" Effie gushes.

When they come to my name, everything literally slows and I chew harshly on my lip. I'm expect anywhere from a 0 to 2, but none of those numbers look quite like the 11 that flashes onto the screen.

Eleven? _Eleven?!_

The whole room erupts into squeals and cheers, and I'm stuck to my seat. How in the hell? Was this some kind of joke? I am too busy thinking of how my score could be a mistake to respond to everyone's compliments. Once everything dies down, I slip out of the penthouse and head up towards the only place I can find solace nowadays.

The roof has somehow become the only comforting place in the building. I noticed after the second day that if you look far enough past the Capitol, all you see is land. Rolling hills, grass, trees. It's beautiful really. I don't know how long I'm sitting for, but undoing and redoing my braid keeps me preoccupied from the thought of the Games starting in only a day's time.

"How did you score that eleven?" A familiar deep voice rumbles from too close behind me. I almost fall backwards off the ledge but his strong arms steady me. They're gone as soon as they came.

"I thought we weren't friends, or even acquaintances." I say, ignoring his question.

"I know." We're quiet again. What does he mean by that? After a while he sits down next to me, closer than I'd like, and looks out of the Capitol like myself before.

"Imagine how much of that out there is just wilderness. No districts, no Peacekeepers or the Capitol, no Games." He muses, still gazing.

"One can only wish, Cato."

"So are you going to reveal how you got that eleven, Girl on Fire?" He presses. "You were useless in training. Did you sleep with Seneca Crane?" My mouth almost hits the floor and I automatically go to smack him, but he catches my arm. I am completely flustered.

"Of course not." I stammer. He's still holding my arm. "I can't believe you'd think that. All I had to do was shoot an arrow at him." He releases his grip and laughs. He actually laughs.

"That's funny, Twelve." I frown.

"Katniss. My name is Katniss." I state defiantly.

"Okay, _Katniss," _he smirks, my name rolling off his tongue. I liked it. "So shooting the Gamemakers, huh? That sounds a little far fetched."

"Perhaps you should ask the one who fell in the punch bowl." He laughs again, this time turning his full attention to me. My, he's beautiful. His smile falters a little bit, and he looks away, like I am actually fire and he can't stand to look at me for so long in fear that I'll engulf him in flames.

"Alright, I believe you." He says, the ghost of a smile still playing on his lips. "I'm sorry if this is strange, me being, well, normal, I guess." His eyes flick to me, trying to gage my reaction. "I've never had the chance to be myself. In fact, I don't even know how I am as myself. So you'll have to tell me."

"First off, weird is probably a severe understatement." I say with a small smile. "But it's… nice." I choose my words wisely. "Almost comforting, especially because, well, you know…" I trail off.

"The Games." He finishes for me.

"I didn't want you to die." I say honestly. "Even before I knew I'd be shipped off to the Capitol." I pause to assess his reaction, and he seems intrigued at the least. I can't read anything else. "I listened to you for six years. I figured that if you really were picked to volunteer, this was the year because the next you'd be too old. I just didn't expect myself to get swung into it." I turn away, embarrassed. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut before I ruin something.

"I just don't understand," Cato replies after a minute or so. "Why did you keep listening? Six years is a long time. I would have gotten rid of the damn thing after a few days." I thought for a moment.

"I was amazed, honestly. All my life I've seen the people around me turn into these lifeless figures. There's so much poverty and death at home that people are accustomed to it. But you, you were raw human emotion. I'd never seen someone become so angry or sad before, not so often. It made my heart hurt." I say the last part quietly. "You don't know how many times I'd wish I could help you because you always seemed about ready to break." The amazement on his face makes my own flush.

"No one's ever seemed to care about me like that before, not even my family." He mutters. "They all went about like I wasn't going to the Games in the end. Never asked how I was, if I needed help." He looks uncomfortable talking about his family, or just this matter altogether. I don't blame him.

"Yeah, well, that was all before I met the killing machine that I've seen in training the past three days. Now I 'm not too sure how I feel," I confess. If his face flashes even a small sign of hurt, it's gone in a second and replaced by a cold stare, but I don't regret what I said. How am I supposed to have heart to heart conversations with someone who could snap my neck in seconds?

"Sorry to disappoint." He says icily. Then he stands up, storms to the elevator, and leaves. I let out a long sigh. Perhaps I regret it a little now. God, what was I thinking? If he's pissed enough, he'll have my head as soon as the gong rings in the Arena. I curse to myself.

I stay up on the roof for another hour or so, thinking that maybe he'd come back and I could apologize. But what would I be apologizing for? Would I actually mean it, or do I just not want to be the first head to be taken off by that sword he'll have? Both, I suppose. Giving up on thinking of how I could fix this, I leave the roof empty and immediately go to bed.

* * *

The next morning Effie thankfully lets me sleep in 'till twelve. I don't sleep through the night, but it's nice to know that I won't be yanked out of bed to train again. Instead, I'm supposed to prepare for my interview, but I couldn't care less about that. I'm not beautiful, nor am I good at making people like me, so I really can't make it much worse for myself by speaking.

But how wrong I am.

The dress Cinna has designed for me is so extravagant that I'm afraid I might ruin in with one touch. When he slips it on me, all of the tiny colored gems reflect the light like I'm on fire. How fitting. I go to twirl, wanting to see myself completely, but Cinna stops me.

"Save that for on stage." He says with a smile. This man always has something up his sleeve, doesn't he? I turn to observe myself again in the mirror, and I fail to ignore the fire that radiates off me. Meanwhile, Cinna places more jewels on the hollow of my shoulder trailing them to the back of my dress. Once he's finished we meet up with Peeta and his own stylist, and they lead us into the waiting room for the tributes. I'm slightly overwhelmed by the amount of colors and people that there are in the tiny room, but that soon goes away once we find Haymitch and Effie.

"Remember Katniss, just pretend that you're talking to me up there," Cinna says to me before he leaves. I can only hope that will help. All the tributes seem to be going over their own approaches with their mentors, but I know it won't help me. Effie suggests trying to be charming, Peeta says to be myself, and Haymitch told me to be humble. Humble? I know right.

One of the stage producers comes down and orders us all to line up by district, girls before boys. Once our interview is over, we're supposed to come back to this very room until the end. When we're all organized, he leads the girl from One towards the stage and she saunters on.

It's easy to tell the approach of the tributes. The first girl, Glimmer, is obviously using a sexy appeal; her partner is arrogant and somewhat unsettling. Clove seems a little off her rocker. Cato oozes confidence and power. It scares me. Both tributes from Three are innocent, capturing some of the Capitol's hearts. The girl from four is a little ditzy while the boy is humble. Maybe I should just try to act like him. The girl from Five is obviously intelligent, and the sneaky demeanor with her fiery red hair has me naming her Foxface. I zone out for a while after that but I don't miss Rue's. Young and innocent Rue, the Capitol is fawning over her, but I think deep down they know she'll end up dying. I shake the thought from my head.

Soon enough it's my turn, and I'm shocked by the reactions of the viewers when I walk on. There are whistles and cheers all among thousands of clapping hands. I'm so disoriented that I miss Caesar's first question.

"Wait, what?" I ask. The blue haired man laughs lightly.

"Nervous, are we?" He jokes kindheartedly. "What did you think of that entrance you made at the tribute parade? I think I speak for us all when I say our hearts stopped." The crowd murmurs in agreement.

"Well, I was certainly wishing I wouldn't burn to death," I answer honestly. The crowd gives a big laugh along with Caesar and I feel a little better.

"I can imagine," he says once the crowd dies down. "Now, this dress is something, I must say." My smile is real this time.

"Oh yes, Cinna is an amazing stylist." I catch his eye and he nods his head like he's trying to tell me something. Oh, the twirls. I rise to my feet. "May I?"

"But of course." So I twirl, and the effect is immediate. Screams erupt from the crowd and I can see why. The hem of my dress has erupted in flames. It must look stunning. I spin a few times before I almost fall off the stage, but Caesar helps to steady me back into my seat.

"My goodness, Miss Katniss!" He exclaims. "That was spectacular, truly."

"Thank you," I giggle, but the sounds feel unnatural. Finally the crowd dies down again and Caesar seems to pull a serious face.

"Now, I want to ask about your sister. You volunteered to take her place at the reaping, yes?" I'm automatically frozen, and I can already feel the negative emotions swirling in me. I find Cinna's gaze again and he sends me a kiss. I turn my attention back to Caesar and gather my wits.

"Yes, I did." I say softly.

"Could you tell us about her?" He presses.

"Her name is Primrose, like the flower. She's twelve years old, and I love her more than anything in the world." The crowd gives a collective awe.

"And did she come to say goodbye to you? What did she say?"

"She did," I nod, "She told me to try and win, to try and win for her." He gives me a sad smile. "And I told her I would. I told her I'd come home." I'm close to tears now, but Caesar is always there to help you out.

"And try you will," he finishes, placing a kiss on my hand. "Ladies and gentleman, your female tribute from District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!" The cheers erupt again and after my closing, I quickly walk off the stage, fiercely swiping away an escaped tear. I get back into the room before Peeta goes up, watching Haymitch's eyes flit to me and whisper a final word to my partner before he is swept away.

"What was that about?" I ask once I'm sitting next to him.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart." He insists. "You didn't do too badly, you know."

"Well, thanks." I decide to instead stand across the room to watch the rest of Peeta's interview, wanting to stay as far away from anyone as I could in case of more tears. I catch Cato's gaze and his eyes soften enough for me to know that he's sorry. Once I focus on Peeta again, him and Caesar are talking about smelling like roses, and it's really great. Peeta's charm is impossible to ignore. But it's the next part that catches my full attention.

"So Peeta, you must have a lucky lady at home," he inquires, "I mean, look at that face!" The audience enthusiastically agrees, but Peeta just laughs.

"No, hardly." He answers. Caesar doesn't believe him for a second. "But there is this girl, one who I've had a crush on almost forever. I don't think she noticed me until the reaping though." Cue the collective sighs.

"Well Peeta, I'll tell you what," he starts encouragingly. "You go out there, and you win this thing, you can go home and she can't turn you down!" Peeta flushes red.

"I don't think so," he stammers. "Winning won't help in my case."

I am suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Oh, no he isn't. I look over at Haymitch with that crooked smile on his face and my suspicions are confirmed. Anger fills me entirely.

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, confused.

I'm already halfway across the room. Does he think this is some kind of play? That I'm just a doll to be toyed with?

"Because, well… she came here with me." Peeta finishes quietly.

My clenched fist connects with Haymitch's jaw as soon as I'm within reach, and the only thing I hear is Cato's chuckle somewhere in the background.

* * *

**A/N: I thought about splitting this chapter into two, but I just couldn't. I hope it was eventful enough for you! **

**Also, I'm really sorry to say this, but don't get used to the constant updates. Summer is winding down for me and once school starts I'll definitely be busier. But I won't abandon the story, I promise! **

**Until next time (:**


	6. Chapter 6

Cato, being the only able bodied one to do so, pulls me away from Haymitch before I can literally pounce on him. My mentor's chin is somehow bleeding and a nice shiner is already starting to form. I try to fight Cato's grip, but a lean sixteen year old girl is nothing to him.

"Save that fire for the Games, Katniss." I hear him whisper. My pent up anger is nowhere near being let out, but I stop struggling and wait for him to release me. Once he does I immediately leave, ignoring Peeta's confused questioning when he walks back from the stage. I just shoot him a dirty look and continue to the elevator.

I'm back in my bed now. Confusion, hurt, and anger swirl around in me. Why would they plan something like that? I have never, ever seen Peeta in that way. Hell, we didn't even speak to each other before the reaping. The only time we'd interacted was when he tossed me that bread in the rain. That's it.

Did they think that a love story would gain sponsors? How stupid is Haymitch? One of us, if not both, will be dead in some time. It'd be a waste of money. I refuse to act just for the Games. Besides, I don't want Cato thinking I'm suddenly interested in Peeta.

Wait, what?

I almost laugh. This is no time to be getting attached to a boy. He will kill you if he gets the chance, I tell myself. Our conversations change nothing about the Games. I wish they did though. I really do. I could never kill him, ever. I couldn't kill anyone that I've somehow managed to connect with, even little Rue, who I haven't said a word to yet. Fear fills me entirely now, and I can't shake the feeling for the life of me.

I lay in bed for a few more hours, savoring the soft material and comfy feeling. It's probably the last I'll get. I wonder if Peeta is still awake. Now that my hostile feelings have subsided, I feel the need to talk to him. I need to explain myself to at least one person.

I leave my room to knock on the door of his next to mine, but he's already awake, sitting near a window and looking out over the Capitol. He must have heard me because he turns to stare at me, no emotions crossing his face.

"Hi," I say weakly. He purses his lips and waves me over. Tentatively, I make my way to the ledge and sit across from him, my legs folded underneath me.

"You should be getting some sleep," he reproves.

"I could say the same about you," I retort. He remains impassive and I sigh. "I assume Haymitch explained what happened earlier. I'm sorry that I made a mess of things. I was just so angry that he didn't think to include my opinion first."

"Of course he wouldn't have, it was my idea." My eyes snap to his and I feel my anger rise again.

"Why? Why would you do that to me, to the both of us?" I hiss. "One of us will probably be dead within a few days, and what's to say about the other? If this is about getting sponsors, which I think it is, then it's stupid." He looks regretful now.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think of it that way. I know you'll survive though. You're a fighter," he insists. I open my mouth to contradict him but he cuts me off. "And I meant it as a compliment, you know." I'm somewhat startled. A compliment? Did he actually find me desirable?

"Oh," I say lamely. I think for a moment. "But I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry that I didn't give you both the time to explain, and I'm sorry that I snapped at you. I'll probably need to apologize to Haymitch in person though."

"It's okay," he replies. "I expected some repercussions, especially from the Girl on Fire." I return his smile with a small one of my own. Silence overcomes us and eventually I'm feeling tired. Peeta looks like he's fighting the urge to stay awake, like if he refuses to fall asleep he doesn't have to wake up to the nightmare of tomorrow morning.

"We should sleep." I declare, pulling him off the ledge. We make our way to our rooms and bid each other goodnight. I'm out by the time I've fallen into bed.

* * *

_I'm running. Dark stones surround me everywhere and there's only one path for me to follow. I can see tributes on every side of me, but they're all dead, hanging over the edges of the rock, cold and lifeless. Somehow I am in the Games, but something is off. Then I hear Prim's screams in the distance. _

_What is she doing her? I frantically worry. She's supposed to be safe at home. I break into more of sprint than I was already in, following the sound of her cries. The path seems to morph into the direction that I need it to go. _

_Prim! I'm scream. Prim, I'm coming! _

_Katniss! Katniss! I hear. My heart breaks. She sounds like she's in so much pain. _

_Finally, I find her. She's sprawled on her back across the stone in front of me like she's strapped down, but there are no ropes or anything to be seen. _

_I'm here, I breathe as I reach her. Kneeling down, I tried to pull her up from the ground, but she doesn't move an inch. I pull harder and rougher. She only screams more in more pain. I immediately stop. _

_I'm so sorry, Prim. I whisper, taking her hand. _

_Why couldn't you save me, she chokes. Tears form at the corners of my eyes. _

_What are you talking about? I reply. I'm going to get you out of here. Just stay calm, okay?_

_But it's already too late, she whispers. The life seems to be slowly escaping her._

_Prim! I panic. What are you talking about? I'm about to as further but then I see the blood seeping through her snow white dress. It pools underneath her as well, and I'm full out sobbing now. I desperately try to stop the invisible wounds, but she keeps losing blood. Between my tears and the red blurring my vision, it takes me a few moments to realize she's dead._

_Oh god, I whimper. What have I done?_

* * *

My eyes shoot open, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. I bolt out of my bed and stagger towards the elevator, my body moving on its own accord to reach the roof. Once I'm there, I try to throw myself over the edge several times, each attempt more painful than the last. I don't notice him come up behind me to catch my body when I try for the umpteenth time, sobs still racking my entire frame. I huddle into Cato's embrace and try to stop my cries.

"Shh," he coaxes. "Katniss, you need to calm down." My sobs eventually fade into whimpers but I still stay close to him, his grip more comforting that anything I could have imagined.

"I'm really sorry for what I said the other night," I manage once I'm calm enough. "It was so wrong of me to say something like that, especially after you took the matter so nicely."

"It's okay," he replies, looking down at me. "I understand where you're coming from, but I promise you that it won't be like that. I don't think I want to scare off the only person who has ever accepted everything about me." His strong blue eyes show nothing but genuine honesty and my guilt grows. How could I have been so selfish? Sadly, he puts me down on the ledge next to him but wipes away the rest of my tears that have managed to leak out.

"You should really go to bed," he says after pulling his hand away. "It was around 2 when I heard the elevator going, but we spent a lot of time up here. Really, you need to sleep." I reluctantly nod and get up to go back downstairs but I notice he doesn't follow me.

"You're not going to follow your own advice," I ask weakly. "You need just as much sleep as I do." He smiles at that.

"We both know that's not true," he says with a small smirk. "Go to bed. Don't worry about me." I sigh in defeat and follow his orders. "Wait, Katniss." With another sigh, I turn to face him outside the elevator.

"Yes Cato, dear." I tease, gaining some of my wit back.

"Be careful tomorrow," he says seriously, but I can tell he's trying not to laugh at my state. "I'm going to protect you, but I can only do so much unnoticed."

"I don't need protecting." I frown. "In fact, I thought I was the one who wanted to protect you." He chuckles this time.

"I know you don't need protecting," he replies, "You can take on the whole world yourself, I know that. But I want to. And I always get what I want, Girl on Fire." Now he's just teasing me.

"Fine," I concede. "But let me know where that gets your stubborn self." I turn to go back to the elevator with a small smile on my face, meeting his gaze again once I've pressed the button to my floor.

"Goodnight, Katniss."

"Goodnight, Cato."

* * *

The next morning goes too fast for my liking, and suddenly I'm stuck with a needle to insert a tracker in the depths of my arm. Of course, they couldn't handle the chaos if they lost one of us. All of the tributes sit silently in the hovercraft, each pair of eyes flicking from one to another. My own gaze catches Cato's and he gives me a slight nod. His eyes are pleading though, like he wants me to get to safety as quick as possible. Silly Cato, I think. There is nowhere safe in the arena.

After about a half hour, the hovercraft slows to a stop and each tribute is directed down the same ladder we came up to go to our Launch Room with our stylist. Cinna is right behind me when I've finally touched the grey stone. Once in our room, he helps me into a simple hooded black jacket. It's supposed to reflect body heat, he informs me. Guess they crank down the temperature to their leisure in there. I spend the rest of my time sitting on the small couch they've provided, twiddling my thumbs and chewing my cheek 'till I taste blood. Cinna remands standing.

"Do you want to talk about?" He asks after a minute. I shake my head no, but he takes my hand anyway. My nerves calm, but only slightly. Finally a robotic woman's voice comes on over the intercom notifying us to prepare for launch.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Cinna reaches for the neck of my jacket, unbuttoning the corner near the zipper, a flash of gold appearing. My pin.

"Thank you," I whisper, bringing him into a hug. We stay like this until the woman signals for ten seconds. I reluctantly let go and walk over to my tube. I turn to face Cinna behind the glass in time for him to blow me another kiss, and then I'm lifted upward.

Once my platform is in place, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but I recognize the familiar sounds around me immediately. Trees completely encircle the area around the Cornucopia, extending as far as I can see. I almost smile. How lucky am I?

"Ladies and gentlemen," I hear the announcer, Claudius Templesmith, boom. "Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games Begin!" The timer over the giant structure counts down.

60.

59.

58.

57.

56.

55.

54.

53.

52.

51.

My eyes find Cato, five spaces to my right.

49.

48.

47.

46.

45.

44.

43.

42.

41.

_Be safe,_ I mentally scream.

39.

38.

37.

36.

35.

34.

33.

32.

31.

His gaze finds mine,

29.

28.

27.

26.

25.

24.

23.

22.

21.

And his eyes reflect the same request.

19.

18.

17.

16.

This is for you, my dear Prim.

14.

13.

12.

11.

Please don't cry too much.

9.

8.

7.

6.

_**I**_

5

_**will**_

4

_**make**_

3

_**it**_

2

_**home.**_

1

The gong sounds. Let the games begin, indeed.

* * *

**Edit | A/N: I've had a lot of questions about the whole radio aspect of the story, so I thought I'd touch on that. There will be a series of flashbacks and inquiries from Cato that will explain a good bit of it, even though it may be a little far fetched (oh well, this is The Hunger Games we're talking about). So it will be explained soon enough! Sorry for the confusion, it's definitely understood! **


	7. Chapter 7

I hesitate for half a second, debating whether I should disregard Haymitch's order to flee and find water, but by the time I decide to go for the bow with my name on it, it's too late. My hesitation has blown my chance, so I settle for a scrap of plastic and a loaf of bread right in from of me. On my way towards the woods, I spot a bright orange backpack that remains untouched. I sprint a good length for it and grab the handle at the same time another tribute does. District Nine, I think. Just as he's about to tackle me to the ground for it, he coughs up blood on my face and collapses. Startled by the sticky spray, I don't see the girl from District Two until I notice the knife in the boys back. Fear completely overtaking me now, I scramble to my feet and sprint away from her, using the pack to protect my head just in time for a knife to lodge itself into the plastic.

"Clove!" I hear Cato scream, distracting the knife throwing girl enough for me to flee into the woods. She's not going to be happy about that, not one bit.

I don't know how long I spend running but my adrenaline eventually dies down and I slow to a quick walk. I try to keep my feet quiet, which helps me spot other fleeing tributes before they see me. Once I know I've put a good two miles between myself and the Cornucopia, I sit to rest and observe my pickings. The loaf of bread would last me a few days at most, and the piece of plastic would be good for collection rainwater but the sensible side of me knows that the Gamemakers aren't going to make it rain in these games. Too easy.

I pull the backpack into my lap, slowly undoing the zipper. I first pull out a sleeping bag, then a pack of crackers and dried beef strips. There's also a bottle of iodine, wooden matches, a small coil of wire, and a plastic bottle that looks like it could hold a half a gallon of liquid. Relief fills me. Although the bottle is empty, the rest of my supplies reassure me that I can survive, even for a little bit. My next goal is to find water. I remember seeing a lake when waiting for the gong to sound, but there's no way I can go back there. It's probably the only source of water and guarded by the Careers. I'd like to survive the first day, thanks.

I walk a little ways to look for shelter, the woods reminding me too much of home and the many, many years I'd spent in it and the things I'd found.

* * *

"_Daddy, look!" I held up the small black device to my father knowing that he'd have an answer to what the buttons and switches meant. _

"_Look at that," he replied softly, taking the contraption out of my hand. He examines it for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. That's how I knew he was thinking really hard. I would do it all the time just because I wanted to be as smart as my Daddy. _

"_It looks like you've found yourself some type of radio," he said after a moment with a smile. My eyes lit up. I'd never had a radio before. In fact, I didn't even know what it was, but it sounded exciting. "Where did you find this, dear?" _

"_Back near the bank of the stream, the one that trickles into the lake!" I said with enthusiasm. I didn't tell him about the little blond girl I saw or how she looked lost. I didn't tell him that she was crying. _

"_Well, you better take special care of it, little Katniss." _

_And I did._

* * *

I focus my mind back on walking and trying to find a nice tree to spend the night. After a while, I find one with branches a little higher than the others but still accessible. There are a cluster of trees closely surrounding it, so I'm nicely hidden. Settling into my sleeping bag, the backpack tucked inside, I wrap my belt around the branch and myself. Falling out of this tree wouldn't do me much good. After making sure everything is secure, I try to get some sleep.

But I'm awoken by the anthem a few hours later. When the faces begin to appear in the night sky, I count eleven. All the Careers have survived the first day, no surprise there. I truthfully wasn't too worried about Cato at this stage in the Games. He's the leader and the most deathly tribute in this arena. Both Rue and her partner are clear from the sky, which relieves me. Peeta is alive too. I guess Haymitch's advice did have some sense to it. Once the sky goes dark again, I slip back into sleep, only to be woken up again by the snapping of wood.

My eyes frantically search my surroundings but from the sound, the snapping is far enough away from me to feel even slightly safe in my tree. A few seconds of silence follow the shuffling of feet and then a fire sparks in the distance. I almost suffer second hand stupidity. That's one way to get yourself killed.

I patiently wait for other tributes to come running, for another canon to fire. Soon enough, the night is full of laughter and an agonizing shriek follows. I involuntarily shudder. From the sound of it, the poor girl couldn't be more than my own age. Anyone older is a Career, and they're not being killed anytime soon. I freeze up again when I hear their voices, but to my dismay, they're closer.

"Only eleven more to go!" I hear Cato hoot and automatically disgust fills me, but it soon leaves when I remember that this is what he was programmed to do, whether I like it or not. Their footsteps become even closer and the air I'm holding in my throat is getting harder to contain.

"Why hasn't there been a cannon?"

"I don't know, maybe they're just slow from all their Capitol food."

"Maybe she isn't dead." I almost laugh at that comment. Cato won't like that.

"Of course she is. Did you not see my sword in her stomach or are you blind, blondie?"

"Well, someone should go back and see." Glimmer retorts.

"I said she's dead!" He hisses.

"This is ridiculous! I'll go back and kill her if she isn't already," a voice speaks, one that I had not yet heard. I feel my heart shatter. That's Peeta's voice.

How could he? First he announces to the whole nation that he likes me, and now he's betrayed me by joining the most deadly pack in the Games. Does he not know that he'll be the first one killed once they start turning on each other? Tears of anger and hurt threaten to fall, but I refuse to let them. Instead, I focus back on their conversation after Peeta walks off.

"Why can't we just kill him now?" Glimmer whines, leaning into Cato a little too much for my taste.

"Because he's our only way of finding her," he replies coldly, stepping away from the pouting girl. Oh wonderful. Her means me.

"I just want to know how she got that eleven." A small smile appears on Cato's lips and he begins to walk again.

"It's all that fire," he mutters. When Peeta returns and the cannon sounds, they all continue on their search for other tributes. The others don't notice him hang back, or how he looks up into the trees, catching my eye. No, I am the only one who sees his gaze right into my own, and just like Cinna, one of the only people I can trust, he blows me a kiss.

* * *

The next morning I am on the move and somehow stumble upon mud. Mud, which means water! I use my experience in the woods to trail the damp earth and soon I am upon a small river. I have never been more exuberant in my life. I automatically submerge my face in the refreshing substance, gulping down as much as I can. Once I think I can't consume anymore, I fill my bottle and even nibble on a piece of dried beef. Finding water is an occasion I should somehow celebrate. I am feeling thousands of times better once night falls and to top it off, no tributes have been killed. All of those that I have been worried about are still alive. I find another substantial tree to retire in, but for another night, I am awoken by an intense heat and the stamping of feet. Everywhere behind me is fire, threatening to lick at the branches of my own tree. I somehow managed to undo the belt around my waist and throw myself to the ground. I frantically stuff the sleeping bag into my pack, knowing that the water is already in there and the knife is attached to my clothing. Any other supplies I previously had don't matter.

I break off into a run, following the few deer I see fleeing just as I am. They must know where they're going, but I am much slower than they are. The smoke is already invading my senses. It sends a searing pain into my eyes and causes my lungs to burn. I try to hold my shirt up to my face to provide some sort of filter, but it helps very little. Thin branches scratch at my face and continuously my feet catch on logs, sending me to the ground. There is no way this was a tribute's fault. The Gamemakers must have caused this forest fire because of, well, boredom. There were no kills yesterday, so they must make it interesting. They must kill.

And my suspicions are confirmed when I see a huge ball of fire coming right for my head.

I leap to my right, wincing as my spent body hits the ground with such little grace. I scramble to my feet yet again and sprint away from the projectiles, but I know I can't out run the Gamemakers. Another ball of fire brings down a tree a little too close to me. I duck out of the way again, my feet moving on their own. I hear the hiss of another but this time, I am too slow. It misses my head and hits the tree next to me, but not before it skims my leg. I shriek at the overwhelming amount of pain, rolling myself down the hill, trying to stifle the brunt of it. Once I finally stop tumbling, I notice that the fire is no longer moving. If fact, it seems to have begun to vanish into thin air, but I can't say the same for the smoke. Every minute I wait for it to clear is agonizing, but when it does I notice how close I am to the river. Words could not describe my happiness. Carefully as possible, I hobble over and dunk my leg in the water, spending a few minutes just basking in the cool feeling against the nasty burn. I also clear the soot and blood from my face, taking the time to bathe my scathed hands too. But my time is cut short when I hear them. It's a good thing my senses are still sharp because I'm going to need this head start against the Careers.

I gather the remaining supplies I have and make off as fast as I can for the woods. I know they hear me, but I still push on, searching for some way to escape. There's no way I can outrun them, even if I was completely healthy. Falling on my only idea, I pick a tree and begin to climb. Once they reach the base, I'm already a good twenty feet up and I know I'm safe for now. There's no way these branches would support the weight of a Career or Peeta. We lock gazes for a few moments. I wonder if they're as spent as I am.

"You know, the air's much better up here." I call, slightly grinning at their surprised faces. "Maybe you should come up." I notice that Cato is trying so hard not to smile, and that just makes me grin more. Who knew my only occasion of any type of flirting would be in a game to the death.

"Maybe we will," he calls back, grasping his sword. He begins to scale the tree and I am so full of worry. Would he actually kill me? Or will he come up with some way to get around it? As it turns out, he doesn't have to. Before he's even halfway to me, a branch snaps under his weight and he hits the ground with a satisfying thump. I'm only enjoying my relief for a few moments before an arrow whizzes past my head. My gaze snaps back down and anger fills me. That damn girl from One has my precious bow and arrows. If that weapon was in my possession, they'd all be dead, picked off like the targets in the training room or the birds that are always flying back home. But instead I'm stuck in this tree, the five of them peering up at me, unsure of what to do.

"Let's just wait her out," Peeta says, breaking everyone's thoughts. I almost send every single expletive I know at the boy. I'll kill him before the Careers do, I swear. "She can't stay up there forever without starving to death." They all grunt in agreement, spreading out to collect materials for a fire and organizing their weapons. There are so many, and I can only imagine how many of them will be used on me.

Once night falls, the water's power over my pain has completely subsided. I don't dare get into my sleeping bag. The heat would be too much. Instead, I take minimal amounts of water from what's left in my bottle and gently pour it over the burn. I have to bite down on several folds of my jacket to keep from crying out. I give up once I'm running once my supply of water runs low and just sit back, focusing on keeping my breathing in check. I don't know how much time has passed when I hear a beeping in the distance.

I tentatively turn my head up towards the sky and see the small silver parachute floating down towards me. Even though it lodges itself a few branches above me, I am so anxious to see what I've been given that I pull myself up through the pain, carefully making my way through the branches so I don't wake the Careers. Once I reach it, I slowly pull open the small container, revealing another inside of it. I can only hope its medicine.

On my way down, I'm too focused to notice one of the bodies missing from the camp below. I'm too focused to notice the figure that has somehow managed itself onto one of the branches, my branch to be specific. It isn't until I've finally reached my own camp that I find the bright blue eyes in front of me, the owner's hand grabbing me and clamping the other over my mouth before I can scream and fall out of the tree.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait. My first week back was rough, but finally writing this has made me feel much better. Hopefully this clears up a little about how she got the radio, even though it's not much. But it'll all be explained later, I promise! But for now, enjoy my terrible cliffhanger ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter is dedicated to a friend I lost exactly a year ago, someone who taught me to have the strength that Katniss has within myself. **

* * *

I fight against my captor's grip with a fierce persistence, but the immense amount of strength they possess causes me to stop. I may be tiny, but I am a fighter. Regardless, there's really only one person who could hold me almost completely still and silent, let alone in a tree.

"I really would have liked to leave this encounter without a bruise, you know." Cato whispers. "I guess I didn't expect much less though." His grip releases on me and now I'm able to position my seating so that I am facing him. I frown. There is already a nice shiner starting to form under his eye.

"I'm sorry," I gasp, and he puts a finger to his lips, scolding me for being so loud. "Sorry!" I whisper this time, fearfully. I glance down at the rest of the group, but nothing seems out of order. I relax, but then realize the matter at hand. "What the hell are you doing up here?!" I half hiss, half whisper. By the look on his face, he doesn't seem to know. Instead, he takes the container out of my hands and opens it back up. He takes a nice amount of the salve and applies it to my leg. I instantly tense up at the contact, expecting searing pain, but the relief from the burn that replaces it instead makes me blissfully sigh. He rubs a tiny bit more on before meeting my gaze again.

"I…" he starts. "I guess I just wanted to see you. Without, you know, having to be surrounded by people who want to kill you, except for Lover Boy, of course." He smirks, and I scowl right back at him. But I do not miss the fact that he admitted he wanted to see me. Why that actually warms my heart, I have no idea. Well, maybe I do a little.

"How sweet it is to know that there are two people in this arena that don't want to kill me," I decided to respond with. "Such comfort it provides." He laughs quietly at me.

"You're not going to die, Katniss."

"You don't know that."

This is the only time I have experienced a silence so awkward between us because that is exactly the problem. Neither of us knows. We couldn't protect each other all the time, whether we did it blatantly or not. It scares me.

"Why didn't you ever say anything back, on the radio, I mean?" He asks after a while. I think for a moment.

"You never asked if anyone was listening. Besides, I was afraid that would prevent you from confiding," I sigh. "I couldn't let that happen."

"Fair enough." He muses. "But what I don't understand is how you found it."

"In the woods, of course. Back in Twelve." I begin. "I was hunting with my father and I wandered off. It was settled in the mud near a creek. I had dug it out and started back to him to ask what it was, but I hear something. A girl, crying. I hid behind a tree, wondering what the matter was. She was so young, and so upset. I knew what she was looking for, but I was selfish. I wanted the lovely thing for myself." I search his face for a reaction, but he turns away from me. He looks hurt, and I am instantly regretful. "What's wrong?" I whisper.

"I used to live in Twelve, you know." I open my mouth to inquire further, but he shushes me. "I was about four when we moved there. My father didn't want us going to the Academy, my siblings and I. My older brother would have been turning seven that year, the age that they usually enroll you. My twin and I would have had a about three more years. My sister wasn't born yet, but my mom was far along pregnant with her. Four kids. Could you imagine what my parents must have been feelings? Four kids all destined to be trained into killers. They wouldn't have it.

When we got older, the walkie talkies were how we'd keep in touch with each other, whenever we'd go out into the woods. It was the only area that we were allowed out into, which is probably why you'd never seen me around. My mother taught us at home, and both my parents were the only ones who'd go out for shopping. The only people who knew about us were the mayor and the major shop owners. But my parents couldn't stand locking us up in the house, so every weekend we'd be allowed to play in the woods.

The walkie talkie you found was my sister's, Callisto, her name was. I remember her being so upset over losing it, but it was okay. I told her it would be alright, that we would get her a new one, but she tore the house apart looking for it. It was almost funny. She was only five, and I couldn't remember her being more determined.

The matter dropped when she became sick. Your mother… I remember her trying everything she could, and she was the only healer who had any knowledge remotely close to those of the Capitol. But it wasn't enough. Nobody knew what was wrong, and I was still too young to fully understand. She died in the winter, on her seventh birthday. I had never been so full of pain, and neither had the rest of my family. My parents couldn't take being in Twelve anymore, so we moved back, and we were all enrolled in the Academy. I learned to put all my pain into training, but all I felt once the pain left was anger. All I ever feel now is anger."

The whole time he told his story, I didn't notice his clenched hands or the little tears that fell from his eyes. His labored breathing scares me too. I lightly sweep away the wetness on his cheeks and then unraveled his fingers, taking his hands softly in my own. I don't think to say anything. I don't know what I would say.

I honestly can't believe I didn't put it together at first. The blonde hair and blue eyes that I saw rushing around the woods that day were unmistakably the same as Cato's. No wonder he was so angry when I first tried to explain to him in the hallway. He must have thought that I was trying to play some sick joke. The radio brought back too many awful memories.

"I'm sorry," I say again, once I know he's calmed down. "I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm sorry that it had to end up in my hands. I'm sorry it all had to be connected like this. You should be home with her, in Twelve, like it all started out. This should not have happened to you." My voice cracks at the end, and I look away before tears can't escape out of my own eyes. His hands are still in mine.

"Don't cry," he whispers. "It's not your fault, and neither of us can change the past. This is how things are, and we have to make the best of it." I scoff. How can this situation be taken to the best? "I know what you're thinking, that this couldn't get better, but it will. If we both get out of this, then that's rewarding enough. We will have our lives. If only you survive, then that's okay too. I can go home to her." I don't miss how he doesn't mention an ending with my death. Why is he so convinced that I will not die?

I would die for him, and he needs to get home.

"You should go back down," I find myself saying. "We both know that it cannot go on like this. You need to get home, which means not wasting your time trying to sort out things between us. You need to focus on what's right."

"Katniss, don't even give me that," he says, a little louder than I'd prefer. "I don't give a damn about these Games, but I give a damn about yo-"

"No, I don't care." I lie, harsher than I mean to. "I… I don't want this." I instantly regret the words out of my mouth once the hurt registers on his face. "Go."

But he doesn't move. He just stares at me, and I watch his gaze go from hurt to regret and then anger to confusion. And then there's something in his eyes that I can't place.

My hands are somehow still in his, so he brings them to his lips and places light kisses on each knuckle, the warmth of his breath stirring comfort in me. I can't bring myself to pull away. I never understood how things could be both wrong and right, in between shades of grey, but I do now. My eyes flutter shut as it is now my face he cradles in his hands, bringing his lips to the hollow of my skin behind my ear. The trail of kisses he leaves down my jaw and across my cheek leave me trembling, and I can't tell if it's from arousal or fear. This mixture of feelings is so new but too real.

His breath stops at the corner of my lips, lingering in the air with my own troubled breathing. But he does not kiss me. He brushes the tip of his nose against mine, like he's having a hard time staying away, but I understand. The closeness that we are experiencing, the idea of being almost together, is all we will ever have.

Before I can change my mind, he is several feet below me, scaling down the tree as easily as I had climbed up earlier. I watch him solemnly the whole way down, making sure that he returns to sleep without notice by the others. Once he lies still without a last glance at me, I turn away and swipe at the tears that have surfaced again.

This is ridiculous. I should not be letting these emotions, these silly feelings, get in the way of what I had set my mind to do. But what is my real goal now?

Am I meant to get home to Prim or to make sure that Cato survives? I almost want to be the one responsible for my death for not knowing the answer.

* * *

I must have fallen sleep for only a short amount of time because I am awaken at dawn by a soft hissing, sounding like it's trying to get my attention. My eyes snap open, and I immediately spot a small figure crouched in a tree a few away from mine. My preyful gaze softens. Rue.

She points a little ways above her, and I follow her gaze to find a nest settled a few yards up my tree. I almost panic. How could I have no noticed how close I was resting to a nest of tracker jackers? Before I can try to communicate my confusion, she points back down to the Careers and makes a sawing motion. Ah, now I understand. Before I can start my climb, I look back to the tree to thank Rue, but the little bird is already gone. I smile to myself.

I apply some more salve to the burn before I collect my things and begin to scale the tree. The knife Clove threw at me is still settled into my belt, and the rest of my possessions are secure in the backpack strapped onto me. I climb as quietly as I can, making sure to avoid the thinner branches as they become more abundant as I get higher into the tree. I reach a branch connecting to the one with the nest on it. I shimmy closer to the buzzing, not thinking about the stray jackers that hum near my head and hands. I glance back down to make sure my aim will be perfect, and my eyes catch on Cato's sleeping figure. Should I try to wake him up before I drop it? How would I do that? I shake the idea away before I can become more distracted. He's the strongest tribute in this arena. He can handle a few bugs.

I begin to saw away at the sustaining branch, making a little progress within about a minute. I am halfway through when I feel my first sting. The pain is sharp and immense. Black clouds part of my view and I greatly fight the urge to scream. But my arms keep moving, taking away more and more of the wood, wanting to get these awful things away from me. I feel two more stings before I am able to shove the branch away from me, sending it sailing down to the ground with pleasure.

Once it hits the middle of the camp, it cracks open and the swarm searches for its disturbers. I hear Glimmer's piercing wail as she awakes, and I know that it can only go downscale from here. The other Careers have awakened and they're scrambling like lost puppies, and this is the only time I will probably witness their vulnerability. Against other humans, they are lethal. Against the forces of nature, however, they are weak.

They've all run away now, except for Glimmer, who I notice is now dead as I try to climb down from the tree, wooziness overtaking my senses. I fall from a branch before I can get close enough to the ground, and I land with a painful thud, making my judgment even worse. But nothing could cloud my vision enough to cause me to lose my gaze on the bow clutched in the blonde's swollen hand. I stumble forward and rip it from the corpse, tossing her roughly aside as well to obtain the quiver of bows that is on her back. Once I am equipped to my satisfaction, I wander away from the scene, losing my balance more times than I can count. All I hear are voices clawing at me and the screams of the lost Glimmer. I mercilessly killed her.

Before I can feel any sort of remorse, I roughly hit the ground for a final time, blackness swallowing me from all directions.


End file.
